Hide And Seek
by AnnaMarie890
Summary: It was just a game... it was never meant to be anything more. Just a way to escape, a way to take shelter from the reality. But it's become so much more, and now it's too late to back out. The game is on. Story about the origin of the Tall Man. Rated T for mild violence, frightening situations, and language. Rating might increase to M in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

One song can spark a moment,  
One flower can wake the dream.  
One tree can start a forest,  
One bird can herald spring.

One smile begins a friendship,  
One handclasp lifts a soul.  
One star can guide a ship at sea,  
One word can frame the goal.

One vote can change a nation,  
One sunbeam lights a room.  
One candle wipes out darkness,  
One laugh will conquer gloom.

One step must start each journey,  
One word must start each prayer.  
One hope will raise our spirits,  
One touch can show you care.

One voice can speak with wisdom,  
One heart can know what's true.  
One life can make a difference.

And one foolish choice can ruin it all, forever.

Humans are petty, feeble-minded creatures. Simple beings, prone to weakness. The worst of these is curiosity. Of all the things that ruin a life, curiosity ranks the highest. That stupid desire to lean what you don't know, that insatiable hunger for whatever is just out of your reach, a desire to understand things beyond your comprehension, and an incredible, _unyielding_ passion for exploring_ every single little thing_ that should have been left alone.

_**Author's Note: Just a quick note to the reader, this story contains potentially sensitive material that may be considered offensive to some. Please use discretion. Also, please note that this is my interpretation of Slender Man. His appearance and characteristics will vary from the games. I also am not planning on following the story plots of the games. Thanks for viewing! Enjoy the story!**_


	2. Chapter 2

Tristan was a crazy, creative, mischievous boy, as most his age were. Some would say he took it too far. He was always pulling pranks, trying to get people to believe that his fantasies were truth, and then of course teasing them whenever they bought it.

Of all his victims, his sister Marissa was the most targeted. But she was a clever creature, armed with a quick wit and sharp tongue. She knew her brother better than anyone, it was nearly impossible for him to get the jump on her. This only inspired him to try even harder to haunt her.

They were twins, the two of them. She had been stuck with him her whole life; she knew him from the inside out. His pranks were usually predictable. But, occasionally he could give her a good scare.

"The Tall Man is going to find you!" He told her one cold, rainy night in September. "He is watching you! And if you're naughty, he will drag you to the woods and eat you!"

She would laugh as he explained that the 'Tall Man' would leave her notes with clues on them, instructions to avoid getting eaten.

Then, that same night, as the girl went to bed, there was a note waiting for her under her pillow.

It had a simple, messy scribble on it, something that looked sort of like a man, and the word 'follows' written vertically next to it. She laughed aloud and went down the hall to her brother's room.

"Nice try." She said and held up the poster.

Her brother looked at her, confused.

"I didn't make that."

She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked.

"Uh huh, sure."

"No really, I didn't…" As he spoke, he pulled up a picture he was in the middle of coloring. It had a stick-figure on it and the words 'do your homework'.

Marissa looked at the poster again. Now that she thought about it, the writing was nothing like her brother's.

It was in all caps, scribbled out like it was done in a hurry. She noticed little splashes of red ink on the paper, and shot a glance at her brother's pile of art supplies. All he had were the crayons she had given him for their ten-year old birthday last month.

Before she could think any harder, the back door swung open and an all too familiar drunken bellow echoed through the house.

Worry crossed Tristan's thin face. "Dad's back, quick sissy, hide!"

Tristan pushed open his toy chest, tossing the few action figures he kept stashed within it under his bed and ushered his sister in. She curled up, knees to her chest, and shut her eyes tight.

She could hear her brother scrambling to put his art supplies away and clean up his room. There was a painfully tense moment before she heard the door to her brother's room get slammed open and their father's heavy footsteps come hurtling in.

"I thought I told you and your sister to wash the damn dishes!"

Her brother's voice was high-pitched and frightened.

"We… we washed what we could… but we ran out of soap…"

There was a resounding slap and Tristan cried out in pain. The girl bit her tongue until she tasted blood.

"Where the hell is your sister?!"

Marissa held her breath. Her father stumbled about, and suddenly she could smell the heavy sent of alcohol and rainwater. The lid to the toy chest flew open, and her father's fingers laced into her hair, yanking the tiny girl upright.

Marissa tried to keep mouth shut but couldn't keep a shriek from escaping her throat as her father dragged her out of the toy chest and held her up so that her face next to his, her feet dangling a good foot and a half off the ground.

She screamed, trying desperately to pry his hand open as she felt her skin splitting on her skull.

"I told you to do the fucking dishes!" He threw her down, and she slammed into the ground. Marissa gasped and spluttered, tasting blood. She pushed herself up and cast a terrified glance back at her father. He staggered towards her, a half full beer bottle in his hand.

She saw him pull his leg back and curled up into a ball, braced for a harsh kick to her stomach. It came, and the poor girl gasped, rolling over. She was screaming now.

"Daddy, stop it!" She could hear her brother's voice – foggy and distant—begging their father to stop.

Another swift kick found her shoulder, then another, and another. With each kick their father shouted at Marissa.

"You stupid, lazy, spoiled brat!"

She screamed, hot tears streaming down her dirty face.

"Stop it!"

Unable to watch any longer, Tristan flung himself at his father. The drunken bastard flung his arm out and caught the boy in the side of the head with the beer bottle, glass shattering against his frail skull. The blow sent the skinny boy flying away from him. There was a sickening crack as his head found contact with the wall, and he fell, limp and unmoving, his head bleeding and his ear sliced in half.

His father groaned and approached him, surveying him a moment.

Marissa seized her chance. She grabbed the heavy wool blanket that her brother kept on his bed and tossed it over her father and leapt onto his back. It wasn't much, but it was enough to slow down the drunken fool.

"Run!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her brother seized up a moment before his eyes opened. He put a hand to his blood soaked head and looked up, dazed.

"Run!" She yelled again. "Get out! Go!"

The poor boy just stared blankly, his mouth falling open, like he was trying to speak and couldn't.

Marissa was suddenly flung from her father's back as he abruptly straightened up, roaring in anger. She landed hard, but pulled herself up again. While their father was still occupied, she ran to her brother and grabbed his arm.

Yanking him roughly to his feet, she ran.


	3. Chapter 3

Black clouds had set in and cold rainwater had begun to fall, drenching Marissa's white blonde hair. A mixture of blood, sweat, and rainwater trickled into her mouth; she spat it out and ran on.

She and Tristan stumbled across the open meadow that spanned the distance between their house and the edge of the woods, blood still pouring from his head. His mouth still hung open as he sucked in air greedily, trying desperately to keep up with his sister.

"Come on! You can do it! We're almost to the woods!"

Marissa yelled encouragement to him, her hand still clamped tight on his arm so that she was practically dragging him along.

Behind them they could hear their father stumbling and swearing, his heavy footsteps swift and hasty.

The sudden cover of the trees enveloped the children as Tristan and Marissa dove into the woods. Half climbing, half falling down the muddy slopes, the pair kept moving as quickly as they could to their hiding place.

Tristan and Marissa found themselves running for the cover of the woods many times. Their father wasn't the same since their mom left. He used to do everything with them. This drunken bastard who now chased them wasn't their father. Tristan really wasn't even sure that his father was still alive. Since he had picked up the bottles, he had been taken away, and this violent mad man had replaced him.

But Tristan and Marissa at least had a safe place to retreat to. Just until their father was sober.

Suddenly, Marissa lost her footing and fell hard, tumbling down a miniature cliff. She heard the snap the same time she felt it.

Tristan let out a noise that was something in between a yelp and actually saying his sister's name and he scrambled down to Marissa and pulled on her arm.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" She lied. "Come on! We're almost there!"

Marissa hopped along, trying her best not to let her weight fall on her broken leg.

A twig snapped and Tristan shot a glance over his shoulder.

His father was there, striding swiftly towards them. Thick fog and rainwater clouded his vision, so that he couldn't even see his face, just the milky tan skin of his head and his black coat, completely soaked and clinging to his sickly frame.

He tossed my head back around and hoisted his sister's arm about his shoulder, dragging her along as fast as he could.

He ran harder, forcing his body to deny the pain. His head rang horribly, and he could feel blood trickling in his ear. But he had to protect his sister. If he lost her, he had nothing.

Finally, Tristan slid down a small slope and into a usually dry creek bed, now flooded with rain, letting Marissa thud softly on top of him and cushioning her fall with his body. He quickly pulled himself to his feet and yanked his sister upright, and the pair scrambled for the boulders on the other side of the stream.

Tristan and Marissa hastily made their way to the deposit of stone and began to pull back the thick layer of moss that was draped between two of them.

An old drainage pipe, abandoned and unused, was imbedded deep in the earth, stuck vertically in a crevice between the rocks. The twins had been able to sloppily disguise it with moss and old branches. A drunkard wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Tristan pulled back the makeshift roof and shoved Marissa in, quickly following her.

Replacing the braches and moss, Tristan collapsed next to his sister. They took hold of each other's hands and held their breath, and they waited.

Birds chirping and sunlight filtering through crevices in the thick net of branches and moss woke Marissa. She moved, and was rewarded with a sharp shooting pain in her leg, jolting through her nerves and up her spine. She yelped and then suddenly, she heard footsteps.

She froze, afraid to breathe.

Next to her, Tristan fidgeted. He blinked and looked up at his sister, opening his mouth as if to say something, but Marissa held a finger to her lips, and he nodded, relaxing his head back against her shoulder.

Marissa chanced a glance at her leg. It was black and blue, grossly swollen and sliced open from ankle to knee. In fact, her whole body was cut and bruised from their desperate flee to the woods. Tristan was in worse shape. Dried blood caked the entire side of his face, half of his ear was gone and glass was still imbedded in his skin. His knuckles were black and blue, his normally creamy tan skin deathly pale from a loss of blood. But they were both okay. That was all that mattered to her.

Suddenly, there was a resounding _clang_ as something struck the metal pipe that Tristan and Marissa were huddled inside.

"Hey! Over here!" Came a woman's voice from above them.

Marissa suddenly tightened her arms about her brother. Fear crept into her mind. If someone found them… they would break them apart, send them away to different homes, to different families. They may never see each other again.

The branches and moss were flung back, sending golden beams of sunlight into cold pipe. Marissa moaned and turned her head away, the sudden glow of light an unpleasant adjustment.

Tristan squinted and looked up at the two people who stood above them at the mouth of the pipe. Both of them were dressed in blue uniforms and had guns strapped to their hips.

There was a woman with olive skin and dark hair. She had thin lips and large brown eyes. She looked worried and scared. The other was a man, tall and strong looking. He had golden skin and short brown hair. He had sad, loving hazel eyes that met Tristan's and immediately understood.

"Call an ambulance immediately." He said, and the olive skinned woman nodded and left the pipe. Marissa could hear her talking into her radio, and held onto her brother's arm even tighter. But Tristan was more preoccupied with the hazel-eyed man. Tristan watched, struggling to keep his heavy eyes open as his head rang wildly and his neck seemed to no longer support his temple. The man lowered himself into the pipe and knelt down in front of the two of them.

"Hey, what's your name?"

Tristan stared blankly. He could see the man's mouth moving, but he heard no words. He opened his mouth and stated his name, but he heard nothing except the ringing in his head. His vision grew fuzzy and his head fell off to the side.

The man who knelt before the twins realized how serious the small boy's injuries were. He turned to the girl, softening his voice so as not to frighten her.

"What's your name?"

She clutched my brother closer to her, cradling his heavy head in her arms.

"Marissa." She whispered.

"And how long have you two been here, Marissa?"

"I… I don't know. It was raining."

"Ambulance is here!" Came the woman's voice from above us.

"Get them over here, quickly!"

The man yelled, and Marissa could hear the rev of an engine and the worried shuffling of feet.


	4. Chapter 4

The man with hazel eyes stood silent with his hands on his hips as the paramedics loaded the two children onto gurneys and proceeded to take them away to the hospital. His heart was crushed in his chest. He knew all too well what it was like to end up in the system. He sincerely did not want his own fate to befall the twins.

"Officer Keelan!"

The olive skinned woman from before approached him. Her voice softened when she saw the moisture in his eyes.

"How are they?"

Mr. Keelan shook his head.

"It was really bad… that boy's lucky to have lived this long. A concussion like that should have been fatal, not to mention spending the night in the rain."

"And what about the girl?"

"I assume she'll have to learn to walk again, if she walks at all after a blow like that."

The woman crossed her arms, shaking her head.

"Horrible… who on earth should have done a such a thing?"

"Their father. He was a drunk."

"What? How… how did you know that?"

"Well… I mean… the kids. Get close enough to them you could smell the alcohol."

"But how did you know it was the father…?"

Mr. Keelan shrugged.

"Lucky guess I suppose. I'm going to go take a look, if a parent was drunk enough to attack their own kids, they're probably passed out somewhere in the area. I'll radio if I need back up."

With that, Mr. Keelan turned and made his way to his car. He sat down in the driver's seat and pulled out his cellphone, dialing his wife's phone number.

"Hey."

"_Hey, what's up? I thought you were downtown for meetings today."_

"Slight change in schedule, we've got a couple of kids in the middle of the woods half beaten to death and frozen solid. I need to find their parents."

"_Oh my… that's horrible. Are they going to be alright?"_

"Can't say yet, it was pretty bad. But even if they do…"

"_They'll end up in the system."_

"Yeah…."

"_Ah, I know that voice. I know what you're thinking."_

Mr. Keelan chuckled.

"Well, hey… after I get this all sorted out I'm headed off to the hospital. Perhaps you can meet me there?"

"_Sure, just call me back when you're on your way."_

"Alright, will do. Love you, hon."

"_Love you too."_

He hung up and tucked his phone back into his pocket and drove off towards the main road. After going about half a mile he found a small dirt road veering off to the right and decided to follow it. A few minutes pass, and sure enough, he could see the small house looming up in the distance. Reaching instinctively to his hip, he felt for his pistol.

Getting out of the car, he approached the house cautiously. A few tense moments passed, and he heard a loud thud and glass shattered. A drunken moan echoed from the house, and suddenly, Mr. Keelan's blood turned hot. Anger seethed through his veins. That moron had beaten his own kids to within an inch of death. His heart turned violently and his hands balled into fist so tight that his knuckles turned white. Tossing aside all practical thought, he slammed the door open and barged into the house.

When Marissa woke up, there was a woman by her side.

She was tall and thin, and had a certain safety radiating from her. For a moment, Marissa thought she was dead. She saw pale skin and sandy hair, just like her mother's. But soon, her foggy vision cleared, and she made out the nurse leaning over her. It was not her mother.

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright.

"Where is my brother?!" She screamed. "Where is he?!"

"Calm down now Marissa, your brother is fine."

Mr. Keelan poked his head inside her room before entering and approaching her bedside. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down.

"Try not to move, you need to stay warm and get some rest alright?"

"Where is he? Where is my brother?"

She asked again.

"Your brother is resting, okay? Now, you should do the same."

It took a bit more convincing, but eventually Marissa was satisfied Mr. Keelan could leave her in the care of the nurse.

He left her room quietly and entered the hallway.

"Well, how is the little thing?"

Mr. Keelan turned to his wife as she approached him.

"Exhausted… and scared. Hell, she should be, for a little kid… her father was…."

He sort of shuddered at the memory of meeting the twin's father in the small house. He was amazed at just how violent one drink could make a man. It was a vile thing… capable of turning even the most respectful man into naught but a clumsy, heartless fool.

"And where's the father now?"

"In custody… he'll get a good fifteen years for his crimes."

Something in the tone of Mr. Keelan's voice showed a brooding satisfaction rather uncanny of an officer such as himself.

"What happens to the kids now?"

Mr. Keelan sighed and ran a hand through his sandy hair.

"I… I don't know."

His wife took his hand and smiled gently, peeking into Marissa's room.

"She's awake."

He looked back over his shoulder at the little girl. Her eyes were wet and blank, locked on the ceiling. He nodded and turned back to his wife. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. Planting a kiss on her husband's cheek, she walked past him and approached Marissa's bedside.

The small girl blinked and rolled her head over to look at the woman standing beside her

She had beautiful, delicate features characteristic of her Asian ancestry. Her deep, silky black hair was tied back neatly and she wore a simple white dress.

"Hello." She said.

"Hi." Marissa's voice was still nothing but a raspy whisper.

"My name is Abigail." The woman said as she knelt down and looked at the girl.

"What's yours?"

"Ma… Marissa."

Abigail smiled gently and took the little girl's hand in hers.

"It's nice to meet you Marissa."

Mr. Keelan watched his wife and the girl from the hallway in silence a moment before turning and walking to the end of the hallway and gazing blankly out the window. Before him sprawled the small town and beyond that, the woods. His head began to ring and his vision grew fuzzy and static. Rubbing his hands over his head he turned away and headed in the direction of Tristan's room.


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. Keelan looked down at Tristan's still form on the gurney. His head was swathed in bandages and IVs and monitor wires were plastered all over his body. His skin had regained its natural creamy color, but his tiny hands were still black and blue and swollen.

Mr. Keelan's mind wandered back to the horrible meeting with the twin's drunken father. It was all a blur, but he clearly remembered the bastard's harsh voice and menacing words. It brought back horrible memories. He had heard the same voice in his own father's throat many years ago. He had felt the same fear that he was sure currently clutched the hearts of these two children. He wanted to help them. But… it was such a dramatic decision. He just wanted to make sure that he was doing the right thing.

Eventually, visiting hours were closed for the night, and Mr. and Mrs. Keelan returned to their home.

"Hey," Abigail's voice echoed from down the hall. "Thomas? It's already eleven… you coming to bed any time soon, hon?"

Mr. Keelan rubbed his hands through his hair, elbows propped up on the table. His laptop screen glowed in the darkness, making it hard for his eyes to adjust when he turned around.

"Yeah… yeah. I'm sorry I just…."

"Still thinking about the kids?"

He nodded. Abigail approached him and put her thin arms around his shoulders.

"Mmm… You know it's a big commitment… a lot of responsibility to take on."

"I know…." Thomas sensed the reluctance in her voice. He turned his head and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"We can at least think about it?" He pleaded.

Abigail smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Of course. Now come to bed."

Thomas sighed and closed his laptop, following his wife down the hall towards their bedroom. Suddenly, his radio buzzed on the entry table. The static caused pain to shoot through Thomas' skull, and he grimaced.

"_Attention all officers, we have report of a shooting in the downtown area. Our suspect is a Caucasian male, average one hundred fifteen to one hundred and twenty five pounds, short bleach blond hair."_

Thomas moaned and clenched his fists.

"I… um…."

"No, no it's fine, they need you, go. Just be safe."

"Thanks hon, I'll be back."

Thomas kissed his wife's lips tenderly before grabbing his gun and radio off the entry table and slipping out the front door and heading out to his car.

"Officer Keelan reporting, can I get a location?"

He waited for a few seconds before an answer came in.

"_Heading west on Elm Street towards the Interstate. Warning, suspect is armed and dangerous."_

"Copy."

Mr. Keelan sighed and put his car in drive. He hated getting calls like this. Why did people feel the urge to rob and murder? He didn't understand it, and it made him mad.

It was eleven in the morning when Tristan finally opened his eyes. The poor boy's head ached terribly and his bones felt like lead. He turned his head a bit and felt the heavy bandages that covered his head and neck rustle against the sheets. In the dull morning light he could make out the glow of the monitor, watching in silence as his steady heartbeat ran across the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the curtain rustle, and a nurse came in, followed closely behind by another woman with gentle green eyes and brown hair. She smiled sweetly and waved at him. Tristan sort of gave her a half smile and watched her as she set a pair of books down next to his bed. She whispered something to the nurse, and then turned back to Tristan.

Her mouth opened, but Tristan didn't hear her words. He cocked his head at her and tried to say, '_what?_' but when he opened his own mouth, nothing came out. The woman's eyes grew sad, and she picked up a notepad she had set down with the books. She wrote on it, and turned it around so Tristan could read it. It said, 'Hello, my name is Chloe.' Tristan read it and then looked back up at her. She smile again and pointed at the first word, 'hello', then waved at him. He waved back, not fully understanding. Chloe then pointed to the word 'my' and pointed to herself. Tristan watched as she pointed to each word in the sentence and performed the corresponding sign. When she got to her name, she spelled out each letter for him. Then, she put down the notepad and signed the phrase again. Tristan finally understood and nodded. Then, she picked up the notepad again and wrote something new. Turning it around, Tristan read 'I'm going to teach you to talk with your hands.'

Mr. Keelan watched in silence from the hall as the tiny boy paid close attention to the young woman teaching him how to sign. He felt his throat tighten, and quickly turned away and thrust his hands into his pockets, heading back towards Marissa's room.

He found his wife sitting in bed next to Marissa and reading her a picture book. Abigail looked up and smiled at him, and he couldn't help but smile back. She was glowing. Her eyes glittered happily as Marissa sat cuddled into her lap, her bright blue eyes locked on the story book.

"Mr. Keelan?" Came a voice from behind him. He turned to see the young woman who had been with Tristan standing before him.

"Yes."

"Here, I felt I should give this to you." Chloe held out one of the two books she had brought with her.

"What is this?" He asked.

"It's a book on Sign Language, so you can talk to him."

Thomas inhaled slowly before reaching out and taking the book from her.

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

Chloe nodded silently and folded her hands in front of her. She smiled a bit as she eyed the ground.

"He… he's such a fast learner. He can already spell out his name and introduce himself."

Thomas put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you." He said again, and Chloe nodded, turning to leave.

"Hey… um…" Thomas managed to spit out before she left. Chloe turned back to face him.

"Yes?"

"How would I introduce myself to him?"

Chloe smiled and came back up to him.

"Here, I'll show you."


	6. Chapter 6

It appeared that, through the thick fog of hopelessness and desperation, fate had finally decided to smile upon the twins. After spending the next few weeks of life cooped up within the walls of the hospital, Marissa and Tristan were finally taken home. Mr. and Mrs. Keelan proved to be outstanding parents to the all too deserving twins.

While Marissa was finally able to walk after shattering her leg, the damage was still evident. Every time the girl took a step, her stride wobbled and she had to swing her torso out to the opposite side so as not to lose her balance. But the girl didn't complain at all. She was always smiling. Tristan hadn't lost his mischievous and playful nature, and even through the hardships of not being able to hear or speak, he too, was hardly ever found without a smile on his face.

Life passed uneventfully in the small town. Thomas' career soared and he was eventually promoted to Chief of Police. Marissa and Tristan both proved to be exceptionally bright, and each talented in their own way.

Tristan hadn't lost his passion for art with age. He was never found without a sketch pad in hand. He also developed an affinity for writing. In classes he would always be scribbling out poems or short stories.

Marissa, though she was far too modest to admit it, had - as her father told her - the "sweetest voice he had ever heard". She taught herself how to play the piano and kept saying she would one day save up the money to buy a good guitar. The thing that hurt her the most was that her brother couldn't share her music with her. So, she took great care to learn to Sign fluently, going with Tristan every week on his visits to Chloe's, and learn the language better and better so that she could tell her brother what she was singing, and so that, even if he couldn't hear her voice, he could understand her words.

Then, some years later, one mild and cloudless night in August, the twins celebrated their seventeenth birthday.

"Come on! Sit, sit! You have to open your presents!"

Marissa giggled and allowed Abigail to pull her down onto the couch next to her. Tristan smiled and sat down in a chair opposite of them. He fingered the tiny box in his pocket gently, then looked back up as Mr. Keelan handed him a soda. After retrieving another for Marissa, Thomas sat down next to Tristan.

Marissa took a sip of her soft drink before setting it down and pulling up a wrapped package from underneath the coffee table.

"I want Tristan to open his first." She said simple and walked over on her knees to where he was sitting. She put the package in his lap and signed,

'You first.'

Tristan smiled and picked up the package, running his sensitive fingers over the brightly colored wrapping paper. He pulled off the ribbon Marissa had tied around it and stuffed it playfully in the back of her shirt collar, sticking his tongue out and laughing at her. It was almost as if hadn't grown up at all.

His face brightened up when he finally opened the cardboard box and saw the gift inside. He looked up at Marissa in disbelief, then back down at his present.

He clapped his hands and held up the box so that Thomas and Abigail could see it.

"Oh my go— you found an Atari®?!"

Thomas stared in disbelief and Abigail clapped her hands excitedly.

Tristan smiled and set the box down on the couch beside him, then leaned over and gave Marissa tight hug. Then, he held up his hands, signing her to sit still.

'Okay, now it's your turn.'

He signed and looked at Thomas. Mr. Keelan smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small white box.

"This one was… kinda a group effort." He said. As he spoke, Tristan pulled a smaller box out of his own pocket. Marissa looked at the two of them, confused.

"This part… is from your mother and me." He said, placing the tiny box into her arms. She opened it gingerly and pulled out a simple, glossy golden chain.

"Oh, wow… it's so beautiful…"

"Well, since it was Tristan's idea…" Abigail leaned forward and looked expectantly up at him. He blushed and held out the smaller box he had pulled from his own pocket.

"We decided he should be the one to give you the first charm for it."

Marissa opened the second box. Inside was a golden hummingbird charm. She squealed happily and flung her arms about her brother's neck. He smiled and hugged her back, and Thomas and Abigail exchanged joyful glances.

"I know you're just dying to get your hands on that Atari®." Abigail said.

"You have no idea."

Marissa released her brother and ruffled his hair before situating herself back onto the floor and attaching the tiny golden hummingbird to her new charm bracelet. She watched as Tristan eyed his new present mischievously before casting another glance back at her. She jerked her head towards the television and signed,

'Go on.'

Thomas and Tristan spent the next hour or so giddy like schoolboys, playing game after game on the old Atari®. Marissa went to the kitchen to start cleaning up, but Abigail stopped her.

"Nuh-uh! Not on your birthday, young lady!"

"Ah! Mum…."

"No, no now I mean it."

Before Marissa could respond, there was a sudden buzz and the power went out.

"Hmm… that's weird. Guess the boys were enjoying their games a little too much." Marissa giggled as Abigail opened up a drawer, feeling about for a flashlight. There was a sudden flash of bright light, and static suddenly rang loud and crisp through the house. Marissa moaned and covered her ears, her eyes straining in the darkness. The TV flickered as static ran rapidly across the screen.

The living room was now empty. Neither Tristan nor Thomas were where they had been a moment ago.

Abigail came up behind Marissa, and two stared blankly at the vacant space.

"Thomas…. Thomas!" Abigail grew more panicky with every breath.

"Thomas! Answer me!"


	7. Chapter 7

Tristan's eyes snapped open and he looked up. It was dark and foggy; he could barely make out the stars that twinkled above the tree tops. He sat up and rubbed his aching head. What had happened? He didn't remember anything. Now, he was alone - in the middle of the woods. He stood, stumbling about until he fell back into a chain link fence. He spun around. Beyond the fence he could dimly see his own house. It seemed close, yet miles away, as if the fence marked the boundary into another dimension. His head suddenly grew heavy and his vision fuzzed over, causing him to lose his balance again. He turned back around and looked into the woods. They stretched out ahead of him, dark and empty. They all seemed dead and lifeless; save for a few of the tallest that danced and bent in a wind he couldn't feel. He felt something rustle over his shoulders and jumped, looking back over his shoulder.

The chain link fence was gone. Now, woods surrounded him. He felt the roots of the trees beneath his feet crackle and twist, as if they were alive. The trees surrounding him all at once snapped to life, bending and creaking over and reaching out their branches towards him. He ran.

All around him the woods seemed to come alive. One moment, a tree would be still, the next, he could vividly see a man approaching, as if drawn out of the tree itself. He ran on, lungs aching and throat burning. Everything was shades of black and grey, it all blurred together around him. All through his head, static was ringing. It pieced his thoughts, and brought memories flooding back. How many times had he run for cover in the woods? Now he realized that all those times he had been running straight into the clutches of evil itself. Someone, or something, was in these woods. He cast another desperate glance over his shoulder.

There it was.

It stood twenty feet tall, thin and wiry. It seemed to be a man. It had the legs of a human. Where the arms should have been, knotted, dead branches grew out and tangled into the surrounding trees. Then, where the head should have been, was a blank sphere, creamy toned, featureless and horrifying.

Tristan inhaled sharply and released a sound something like a scream, bolting as fast as his legs could carry him in the other direction. He suddenly lost his footing and fell crashing into a dry river bed. He pulled himself up and looked ahead, squinting through the fog. His mouth fell open.

At the other end of the river bed was a deposit of stone with a blanket of moss draped over it. Under the moss, rusty metal poked through, displaying its ruddy red color. Tristan scrambled inelegantly through the dead leaves and yanked back the moss covering the boulders. At the bottom of the pipe, among the withered and blood stained leaves, lay a note.

It was one of the pages he had drawn for Marissa when the two of them were children. It had a tall stick figure standing next to a much smaller one, and the words 'do your homework' drawn in a child's hand over the top. But now, heavy black ink lay over the childish drawings. Thick, scribbly, capital letters made out the words, 'can't run', and over the head of the short stick figure, was a circle and an 'X' through it.

Tristan's vision suddenly went fuzzy again and he nearly collapsed, holding his hands to this throbbing temple.

_What the hell is going on?!_ He thought to himself.

He rubbed his eyes and looked up.

It was right there.

Tristan yelped and leapt back, running back the way he had come. He crashed clumsily through the braches, swatting them wildly out of his way as he ran deeper and deeper into the woods. He tried turning circles and doubling back, but no matter which way he went, the forest only grew denser.

Suddenly, he thudded into something warm, soft, and sticky. He paused and staggered back a few paces, wiping the warm, gooey paste away from his eyes. He looked down at his hands. Blood. He was afraid to look up, but before he could think, did so anyway.

It was Chloe.

She hung there, suspended by a bloody mess of branches that tangled through her body. Stems wound over her still form and pierced through her skin. Her wrists and elbows were disconnected and pulled out of socket; the branches tight and merciless and they looped through her bones and pulled her apart from the inside out. Her legs hung limp and useless, branches stabbing through her skin behind the knees and bursting out the other side through the sockets. Her tongue was blackish red with her own blood as it gurgled up in her throat. Her body momentarily shuddered, and she blinked. Tristan screamed her name clutched his hands tight over his head.

She was still alive!

Tristan bit down on his own tongue until he tasted blood, tears running hot down his cold cheeks. He wailed miserably and collapsed, rocking back in forth in agony. He looked back up at her, his eyes blurred with tears. Her head lolled back on her shoulders and her body seized up.

Branches suddenly erupted from her stomach and grew out of her body, writhing back and forth and curling about her neck and head. Tristan screamed and fell back, squirming away as the blood-soaked branches reached out for him. He turned and ran. Suddenly, brightly flashing lights appeared in the distance, and shadowy figures emerged from the trees.

"Tristan!" Thomas screamed at the top of his lungs even though he knew his son couldn't hear him. He ran over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders. Tristan sobbed violently and clasped his arms about his father, screaming into his blue uniform. He pointed into the woods behind him, trying to scream out Chloe's name. Thomas pulled away gently and tried to get Tristan to look at him. He just continued wailing and pointing repeatedly to the woods.

"What?!" One of the officers that had accompanied Thomas was growing impatient. Thomas held up and hand and shot the officer a glare. He then softened his gaze and knelt down in front of his son, signing,

'What happened?'

Whatever part of Tristan that was not consumed in fear responded, and he spelled out Chloe's name.

'Where?'

Tristan pointed behind him, still sobbing. Thomas looked behind him, confused, and Tristan glanced over his shoulder.

There was nothing but a chain link fence marking the boundary of the wild life reservation on the other side.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Thanks so much for reading! Please review/follow/favorite! I would love to know that people are enjoying my writing. All comments, whether positive or negative, are more than welcome to better the story. After all, you are the ones reading it :3 **_


	8. Chapter 8

Marissa blinked at sat up. She must have fallen asleep while the police were here. She remembered the power going out, she remembered panicking, she remembered her mother screaming and calling the police. What had happened? Her brother and father… did they find them?

She suddenly was wide awake and running out to the living room. Abigail was already awake and going through her morning routine of fixing the pillows on the couch.

"Mom… what…?"

"Oh, you're finally up sweetie!" Abigail dropped the pillow in her hands and ran up to Marissa, hugging her tightly.

"Don't worry, everything is fine. They found Tristan."

Relief flooded over Marissa at the news, only to be replaced with worry again.

"And what about dad?"

"What about him, sweetie?"

"Did they find him too? Is he alright?"

"Of course he is… why wouldn't he be?"

"But, last night… both of them… they were gone. Don't you remember? You… you were screaming… and, and…."

Abigail shook her head and put a finger up to Marissa lips, hushing her gently.

"I think it's all been a bit much for you sweetie, how about you go back to bed. I'll make you some breakfast, okay?"

"But… dad… where is he now?"

"He went to the hospital to see Tristan. He'll be back soon, don't worry. Just go back to bed."

Marissa nodded and stumbled back down the hallway to her room. What the hell?! She clearly remembered what happened. Both of them, her father _and _her brother had vanished. It didn't make any sense. She remember, Abigail had seen it too.

"_Thomas? Thomas, answer me!"_

Yet, her mother seemed to remember nothing. Why?

It was about four o' clock before Thomas came home. He was weary from his long night searching for Tristan, and the first thing he did was go back to the bedroom and collapse onto the fresh sheets. He hadn't lay there long before a gentle tap came from the door.

"Hmm?" He moaned.

"Daddy, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on in kiddo." Thomas sat up and turned to face her.

Marissa opened the door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.

"What's up?" He asked.

"Dad, last night… what happened?"

Thomas paused, confused.

"I… I remember the power outage, but then I remember both you and Tristan vanished. But now mom says it was only Tristan… I…." Marissa crossed her arms and shuffled back and forth, knowing how strange this must have sounded.

"Yes, the power did go out, and yes, Tristan did seem to, well, vanish. You must not have seen me or something, because I remember it too. You and your mother were panicking, especially your mother… she was screaming out his name as if he could hear her." Mr. Keelan kind of chuckled to himself. "I went out to look for him, we found him not too far away, just by the wildlife reservation. He's too shaken up to talk, he insists…." Thomas trailed off, not wanting to tell Marissa that Tristan had insisted Chloe was dead.

"What?" Marissa prodded.

"He says he saw Chloe…. Which is weird because the night before last, she went missing. We're wondering if perhaps a kidnapper was trying to lure him out or something, but… in any case. He's still shaken up and a little bruised. I don't know why you remember me vanishing like he did, but I promise you I was right here the whole time."

Marissa didn't seem convinced. Thomas stood and put a gentle hand under her chin, tilting her face up to his.

"Hey, you trust me, right? Would I lie to you?"

Marissa kind of smiled and shook her head. Thomas smiled back and pulled her in for a tight hug.

"Hey, can I borrow the car? I think I wanna go visit Tristan."

Thomas paused a minute before speaking,

"Sure," he dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them to her. "Drive safe, okay?"

"I will."

Marissa couldn't put her coat and shoes on fast enough. She was out the door and down the road on her way to the hospital within minutes. When she got there, she practically sprinted to Tristan's room, yanking back the curtain and fumbling about with her hands.

'What happened?'

She signed nervously.

Tristan looked up, shocked at his sister's sudden entrance, then quickly signed back.

'I woke up in the woods. Someone was chasing me. And I saw Chloe.'

Chloe… her dad had said she'd gone missing.

'What was Chloe doing?'

Tristan tensed up and simply signed.

'Dead.'

Marissa stared in disbelief, clasping a hand over her mouth. Dead? No… that can't be possible. Chloe was practically a big sister to the both of them. She couldn't just be dead.

'Did you see who chased you?'

Tristan started shaking his head violently and muttering. Marissa realized she was pressing him far too hard. He was incredibly scared and asking him about what had happened was just about the worst thing for her to do. She waved her hands back and forth.

'No, no… never mind. Don't worry about it, okay.'

Tristan whimpered and a tear trickled down his cheek. Marissa went over to his bedside and leaned over, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead and wrapping her arms tight around him. She pulled his hand into hers and signed.

'It's okay.'

They sat like that for some time until a stern voice came from the hallway.

"Visiting hours are over."

Marissa turned around. One of the nurses, a short woman in her thirties stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot.

"Right… sorry."

She said her good-byes reluctantly and made her way downstairs to where the car was parked. She had to park on the side of the street upon arrival, right next to where the earth dips down and the creek and woods began. She knew the place was popular with gangs, so as she walked she fished her keys out of her purse and put her thumb on the unlock. She looked up again, and she noticed a note taped to the passenger's side window. Was that there before? It looked far too large to be a parking ticket. She walked around to the other side of her car and looked at the note. It had sloppy writing all over it, something only a child or a drug-influenced adult would scribble out. It had the words 'always watches, no eyes' scrawled out all over it, in a much tinier font the words 'I am not insane' were written over and over again.

There was a tiny rustle of activity, and Marissa instinctively reached for the pepper spray in her purse. She heard the trees crackle and moan, as if blown in some heavy wind. But there wasn't even a gentle breeze.

Suddenly, Marissa felt her feet get yanked out from under her and she tumbled off of the road and down into the creek. Her head banged against something hard, and she blacked out. She barely made out a pair of feet approaching her out of the woods.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Next chapter! (dun dunna dun! *dramatic music*)**_

_**Yeah... anyways... enjoy! :D Please tell me what you think, it's greatly appreciate! *hugs***_


	9. Chapter 9

Marissa shivered and clasped her arms about her, opening her eyes slowly. She was in a house. It was small, modest – obviously unoccupied for years. The windows were all boarded up from the outside, and for some reason there was a heavy, smothering feel in the air. Marissa moaned and pushed herself up off of her stomach, pressing a hand to her aching head. Dried blood caked her scalp and hair, falling in tiny little flakes as she rubbed her temple gently. There was a metallic scent in the abandoned house, and she felt horribly sick to her stomach. She moved her good leg, and glass clinked together causing her to look down. Beneath her, shards of brown and green glass littered the floor to almost an inch thick. She flicked a few of the shards away from her and looked up. In front of her was a brick fireplace, dormant for years by the looks of it. It had a dense layer of dust over it, then, about halfway up; a page had been taped to the warm red bricks. Marissa squinted up at it and panic rose in her chest. It was an English homework assignment of hers from last week, completed and graded, but now with heavy black ink scratched out all over it to form the words 'Don't look or it takes you.' Marissa shivered as fear clutched her heart and she began to pull herself shakily to her feet. Her heart was racing. All she wanted to do was get out of here. Her head began to ache and her vision fuzzed and clouded over. She held her head and straightened up, and felt something soft and warm brush the back of her neck. She turned around and screamed, letting out a hollow yelp and doubling over as if she had been punched in the stomach.

Her father – aged and wrinkly by now– but still in his old black coat and denim jeans, dangled from the ceiling fan by his entrails. Blood gurgled up out of his throat and dripped everywhere as he moved his mouth in an effort to speak.

"He's in the house."

He managed to choke out before the life left his body. Marissa turned away and gagged horribly, convulsing into a ball on the floor. There was an electronic buzz, and the lights flickered in the dark house. Marissa glanced about through tear stained eyes, then looked down and her quivering hands. Beneath one of them was an old glass frame, scratched and shattered as if an animal had tried to rip it apart. It had a picture of her and her brother when they were young. Drawn over Tristan's head was a circle with an "x" through it.

A weary creak echoed from down the hall, and Marissa squeaked in fright. She glanced about nervously, looking for a way out. All the windows were boarded up from the outside. How had she even gotten in here in the first place? There was a hollow, guttural noise, and the fan began to crack under the dead weight of her father's body.

Marissa scrambled to her feet and ran. Her wounded leg had begun to hurt again, making it hard to set her foot down correctly on the floor. She fumbled down the hallway and burst into her room out of habitual instinct, slamming the door shut and locking it tight.

She turned to see nothing but black. Something grabbed her shoulders and the blood drained from her face in fear. She shut her eyes, tears streaming hot down her cheeks.

Don't look or it takes you. Whatever you do, don't look at it.

Marissa felt whatever was holding her slam her back against the wall in frustration. She yelped as her head cracked hard against the wall, and this time her own blood began to flow down her body. Another harsh shove came, and her shoulder cracked at the impact.

Sirens wailed and engines rumbled in the cold night, and a sudden hope flooded over Marissa. She might actually survive. Another empty sounding shriek echoed through the house and Marissa could feel her attacker loosen its hold on her in a momentary panic. She took her chance and jammed her fist up into her assailant's chest. There was a sickening gurgle, and she immediately knew she had hit the throat. Something rock hard closed around her throat and flung her to the floor. She still had her eyes closed as her attacker fled.

Voices floated past Marissa. She saw white all around her and the scent of cold metal and disinfectant brought her back to her senses. She looked up to see Thomas standing at her bedside, both relief and worry present on his face. Abigail was behind him, clutching his arm nervously as she looked, teary eyed, at her daughter. Marissa stuttered horribly before she was finally able to let out a quiet, raspy scream.

"You told me you arrested him!"

It took Thomas and Abigail some time to calm down Marissa after the incident. Thomas made it a point to investigate the old house as soon as possible and figure out what was going on. Someone, something, was messing with his kids. He would not tolerate it one more minute. He felt certain that the answer was somewhere in that house.

Day was just beginning to break when Thomas made it to the old house. He went alone, not yet wanting to involve the authorities. He felt that it was best to examine this alone first. It was still boarded up and locked, the way it had been when the twin's original father was arrested. He remembered it clear as day, why would Marissa insist she saw him? Thomas fumbled about with the lock on the door a while before grumbling in frustration and simply kicking the door in and entering the house.

The scent of death hung heavy over the abandoned house, smothering Thomas' senses and causing him to instinctively reach for his handgun. There was a gentle creak in the beams of the old house and Thomas glanced over his shoulder at the woods far beyond the field. The trees stooped and arched in an absent wind, branches reaching out like fingers and roots digging into the earth and stretching towards the house and its lone inhabitant.

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Thanks for reading! *hugs* Please review and let me know what you think! :)**_


	10. Chapter 10

The twins remained in the hospital for some time after the strange episodes. The small town was all abuzz with rumors; the children were traumatized and belonged at an institution where they could be properly medicated and taken care of. Over the years, as Thomas' work career had soared and earned him a high professional reputation, the towns people couldn't help but wonder of he was work obsessed. From the time he was a boy, he had been obsessed with proving wrong all the statistics. But when the twin's story had been brought to light, many thought he had acted in haste. He wasn't typically the man to let his emotions rule him, but in the case of the twins, there had been too much similarity. Everyone knew his story. The abusive father, the mother telling him to play hide and seek in the woods in a desperate attempt to shelter him from the harsh reality, and often being found the next day by some passerby, half dead and pale from the cold. The people thought he wasn't the best father for the twins. And while Thomas himself was thick skinned and didn't care for the words of the people in the town, Abigail worried. Not whether or not she and her husband were good parents for the twins, but whether or not the town would try to remove the twins from her and Thomas' care. Now that she stopped to think about it, his work seemed to occupy almost all of his time now. Late night calls of shootings or robberies, as the chief he had to be there for everything, or at least that is how he felt concerning the matter. All of his cases ended in success, the public never even heard of the criminals again once Thomas was on their tail. He was a brilliant officer, and the people in the small town indeed felt safe knowing he was watching. But how was it then, his own children fell victim to perhaps the sickest and most dangerous criminal the town had ever seen, and here he was, powerless to protect them and with absolutely no leads on the assailant.

He sat up late one night, contemplating the situation. He and Abigail had requested and made arrangements to stay at the hospital with the twins overnight. The unfortunate pair lay motionless in their beds, each wrapped up in bleach white sheets and IVs stuck in their arms. Thomas glanced over at Abigail. She was sleeping peacefully on a mat the nurses had set up for her, curled up with her hands under her cheek. Thomas' sensitive eyes strained in the dark and moved to look at Tristan and Marissa's still forms. The twins had come through all of this beautifully, they hadn't complained or wallowed in self-pity, they had made sure the other was all right, and cooperated with the other officers as they tried to find the individual responsible. Tristan had been the only one of the twins to get a somewhat decent look at the attacker. All he said he had seen was a tall man and a pale face. The boy didn't remember eyes, but he clearly remembered the head of a human towering above him. Thomas was sure the same criminal had attacked Marissa, though she had stated she never had the chance to see him. Marissa, of the two, was in worse shape. She had suffered an injury close to a concussion from getting slammed against the wall, and her shoulders were bruised and cut. Tristan had come through relatively unhurt physically. Mentally, however, he was a wreck. Thomas was sure a good deal of his son's agony was attributed to the fate of his sister. He would occasionally break out onto fits, stuttering out empty noises and fragments of words he used to be able to say. Thomas sat quiet and strangely alone in the room. Branches from a tree growing outside tapped on the window tauntingly as the breeze bid them to bend back and forth. There was nothing to be heard but the occasional tapping of the wood against the glass and the steady beeping of the heartbeat monitors attached to the children. Thomas put his head and his hands and rubbed his eyes. His physical body was severely exhausted, yet his brain was wide awake.

Thomas suddenly became aware that one of the heartbeats running across the monitor had ceased. Panic rose in his chest as the monitor above Marissa's bed began to moan out a high pitched warning. Her heart had stopped. Thomas was suddenly deathly tiered and nearly collapsed as he leapt up. His voice hoarse and fearful, he yelped out,

"Nurse! Nurse, there's something wrong!"

Immediately two nurses, one male and clad in blue the other a woman clad in pink, rushed in. Abigail suddenly came awake at the rug of activity. Thomas remembered nothing of the chaos that followed. He and his wife had been shoved back and made to leave the small room and allow the doctors that had rushed in to help their daughter work. Thomas eventually collapsed on a bench in the hallway, his head heavy in Abigail's lap. She stroked the hair behind his ear gently and kept her eyes locked on the door leading to her children's room.

"Don't worry..." She whispered more to herself than to Thomas. "These doctors know what they are doing... She's gonna be alright..."

A few horribly tense minutes passed before the door opened and one of the nurses jogged off down the hallway. One of the doctors came out and closed the door gently behind him. Abigail gently shook Thomas awake and he moaned and sat up.

"Is she alright?"

He managed to say.

"She's in a coma."

"Oh..."

Abigail clapped a hand over her mouth and bit her tongue to keep from wailing. Thomas stared blankly at the doctor. His gaze hardened and suddenly he grew suspicious of the doctor before him.

"Why? What caused it?"

The doctor noticed Thomas' tension and took a tiny step back.

"To be honest, we aren't completely sure. When we scanned for internal bleeding, we found none. Well scan again but I can't see that as a possibility right now. But she's stable. And as soon as we find an answer, I will let you know."

Something in the doctor's words weren't enough for Thomas. That was his little girl in there. He needed to know what was wrong with her body, and he needed to know now.

The doctor felt the anger radiating off of Thomas and decided it best that he should leave. Abigail, almost in a trance, stood and went to her daughter's side. Thomas stood to follow, but suddenly the receiver in his radio buzzed. He cursed aloud and listened as a voice on the other end described a kidnapping suspect.

"Target is described as a Caucasian male, twenty to twenty-five years of age, one hundred to one hundred and fifteen pounds, and buzz cut brown hair. Last seen in a white t-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. Victim is a Caucasian female, thirteen years old, ninety-five pounds, brown shoulder length hair, gray eyes. Last seen in a flannel pink and white nightgown."

Thomas winced at the very thought of leaving, but that little girl was someone's daughter. He had to help. So, heart breaking, he fished his keys out of his pocket and jogged for the exit. He was halfway down the hall when one of the doctors called to him. He tried to ignore, knowing that if he didn't make it out the door within a few seconds it would be near impossible to leave his family's side. But his job wasn't like so many others. This was serious. People could die. He was determined to prevent such a horror from happening.

"Mister Keelan!"

The doctor ran up and tapped his shoulder. Thomas stopped and stared at the floor, refusing to make eye contact.

"I'm on a call. Make is quick."

"Um, about your daughter... We need you to tell us any potential allergic reactions to-"

"Discuss it with my wife, I'm on a call."

"But she isn't-"

"Leave me alone! I have a job to do! A child could die here! Does that mean nothing to you?! I told you; go discuss it with my wife!"

Thomas practically sprinted out the door and across the parking lot to his patrol car. He felt horrible for yelling at the man and now sincerely regretted it. But what choice did he have? He started the engine and tapped the receiver of his radio.

"This is officer Keelan…." He began.

**_Author's Note:_**

**_Thanks so much for all your wonderful reviews and support! I'm so glad to hear you all are liking the story so far! :D Now, I do apologize for typos, this whole chapter was written on my iPod touch and well, you know..._**

**_Anyways, would love to hear your thoughts! Hope you enjoyed!_**


	11. Chapter 11

It was a long night for Thomas. Despite his efforts with the kidnapper, the case had ended in a stakeout. He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up he was sitting in the drivers seat of his car while all the other officers were milling about the house. He quickly composed himself and got out of his car.

"Hey, there he is." An officer named Eric came up and patted him on the shoulder.

"You alright?"

"Alright as I can be. What's going on?"

"The little girl is out safe, the kidnapper committed suicide in the basement."

Thomas cringed a little and gritted his teeth.

"Ah, I hate it when they end like that..."

Criminal or not, a person is still a person, a loss of life shouldn't be necessary to resolve matters like these. But the child was safe and once again with her family. There was at least one happy ending here. Thomas watched as the coroners lifted a body bag and carried it out of the house. Close behind them came one of the detectives carrying a plastic bag. In the bag was a long, sharpened, bloody branch. It looked as if it had been carved to puncture the skin. Thomas shuddered at the thought of a human taking their own life by impaling themselves on a spear of wood.

Eventually, Thomas allowed himself to leave the crime scene and head back to the hospital. He visited a bit with Tristan and kissed him and Marissa on the forehead and said goodnight before he made the painful decision to go home. Once again, on the way out he was stopped by one of the doctors.

"Mr. Keelan!"

He moaned and turned around.

"Yes?"

"We need to know any possible allergies that Marissa may have..."

Thomas let out a grunt and rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"I told you guys to go ask my wife... She would know better than me anyways."

"But, she hasn't been here, we haven't been able to ask her."

The doctor suddenly had Thomas' full attention.

"What? No... She , she was here last night. I left on a call while she was still here..."

The doctor stated blankly and shook his head.

"We, we haven't seen her..."

Thomas dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Abigail's mobile number. Her phone was either in the middle of a call, dead or off, so he tried the home phone. After two rings it was answered, but no voice came on the other end, just shrill, empty static. In a matter of seconds, Thomas was out the door and in his car, speeding toward the house with the sirens wailing.

He didn't even think before leaping out of the car, pistol in hand.

The front door was unlocked and swung open swiftly and silently at his touch. The house was silent and eerie, and for some reason completely unfamiliar to him. He peeked into the kitchen to find several drawers open and obviously rummaged through. On the kitchen whiteboard, a list was written out.

- backpack

- rifle

- flashlight

- pepper spray

- cell phone

For a moment Thomas though his wife had gone insane. He ran to his bedroom and checked the closet. Sure enough, the locker in the back corner had been unlocked and the rifle he kept inside was gone along with all the ammunition. A note was inside. Thomas picked it up and read it.

_If you won't stop this psychopath, I will._

An empty cry escaped Thomas' throat and he tried to dial Abigail's cell phone again. Once again, there was no answer. He ran back out of the house and got back in his car. He didn't have any idea where his wife would have gone, but something seemed to pull him back towards the twin's old house. While he was driving he seemed to realize that this could be his chance to catch the freak victimizing his kids, and reached down to his belt to call for backup. Picking up his radio, he pressed the receiver to find it dead, relaying nothing back and forth but empty buzzing. He groaned and tossed the useless device into the passenger's seat and pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal. He could not - would not - allow his wife to be hurt by this monster of a human being. He had let his children suffer, a sin for which he could never forgive himself. But now his wife, the one who had been there for him through everything, was putting herself in harms way and again, there was nothing he could do about it. He knew in his heart he had failed miserably, he had let his family down so bad he was unsure any of them could ever forgive him. Now, as he drove into the dirt and gravel driveway of the abandoned house, fear clutched his heart. Not the fear of what he would find, but the fear that whatever it was, he wouldn't be able to fix it. He pushed open the old door and pulled out his pistol. The house seemed empty enough, broken beer bottles covered the floor and white sheets covered the furniture. To his right was a big brick fireplace with a note taped to it.

'Don't look or it takes you'

Thomas finally came to the realization that the freak attacking his family was legitimately insane. He didn't usually deal with the insane in his line of work, this small town had the usual domestic violence, but a psychopath running loose through the woods surrounding the town was another matter entirely. He looked down and saw te massive bloodstain in the carpet. Marissa has said she had seen her father die, but when he had come with the secretive a the body was gone. The same blood stain remained, but still no body. This bastard was good at cleaning up evidence. They had even dusted for fingerprints and found nothing. Then, Thomas' eyes caught a glimpse of a small black rectangle sitting on the kitchen counter and recognized it as Abigail's phone. He fumbled over towards the counter and picked up the phone. It was on, a phone call from a blocked number running for the past hour. Nothing came through the speaker but empty static. Thomas ended the call and noticed forty seven text messages were unread. All of them were from a blocked number, and almost all of them read the same thing,

'I am not insane'

All except the first five, the ones marked that they had been read, and all sent exactly twenty minutes apart through the hours of the night.

'Don't look or it takes you.'

'Can't run.'

'Always watches, no eyes.'

'Leave me alone.'

'There is nothing left for you.'

Then, suddenly the phone buzzed and new message flashed up on the screen.

'I hope you believe me now.'

A sudden flurry of images flooded the screen, the twins when they were young, Abigail and Thomas' wedding, birthdays, anniversaries, all the hospital visits. Thomas dropped the phone and stumbled back, his mind whirring. Then, his own phone rang in his pocket, shrill static piercing the emptiness. He pulled it out of his pocket and gazed at the screen in terror. The messages, all the gibberish, all the strange threats, had been sent from his phone. The phone's screen fuzzed over and his own reflection shimmered in the white static. Then, in the reflection, a faceless head appeared. Thomas spun around and pulled the trigger.

_**Author's Note: Muahaha! Cliffhanger! Just because I love torturing all of you *evil snicker* Okay anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a review and tell me what you thought! I would love to hear from you guys! :D **_


	12. Chapter 12

Abigail yelped and sat upright. The scent of rotting human flesh came to her and she gagged horribly. Where was she?! All around her was darkness. She couldn't see a thing. She moved slightly and her leg brushed against something cold and metallic. She ran her hand over what appeared to be a flashlight, picking it up and turning it on.

The poor woman screamed and leapt back. A body hung, limp and bloody, from a chain wrapped around its neck.

It was a young man, probably about one hundred fifteen pounds with short, bleach blond hair. Abigail scrambled inelegantly to her feet and backed away. Another body, also suspended by a chain thumped into her. This time, she was more saddened than frightened.

Chloe's delicate body hung mutated and ruined from the chain bound tight about her neck. Abigail cupped a hand over her mouth and wept bitterly, biting her tongue until she tasted blood. Then, something hard brushed against the back of her neck and her sobbing ceased. She stared blankly before her, too terrified to turn around. She immediately felt for the rifle she had tossed over her shoulder, but then found that, along with everything else she had brought with her, the weapon was gone.

She had been so foolish to come alone! What was wrong with her?! Now she would have her life to pay for her mistake. She trembled horribly, her fingers digging like claws into the metal flashlight. And she ran.

Abigail quickly discovered the room wasn't nearly as large as she had originally thought. Cold, lifeless bodies were hung from an invisible ceiling, all of them rotting and decaying and crumbling by the minute. But there was one thing beside her that was alive in this cramped space, something evil looming over her like a hawk inspecting its prey. She ran her hand along the wall and found a doorknob. A frantic twist revealed it locked. Through a small, foggy glass window, Abigail could see trees. They stood tall and firm like soldiers guarding a bunker.

Then she saw a man. Thomas stood not thirty feet away from the small tomb. A gentle tap echoed in the darkness behind her and an animalistic growl crept over her spine. She began to scream and pound on the door for everything she was worth. Thomas seemed to hear none of it. He stood quiet, scanning the area slowly with his flashlight.

"Thomas! Help me! Please!"

By now Abigail's delicate hands were bruised, but her pounding continued. Her fists were cold and unrelenting against the hard wood and glass, her voice shrill and terrified.

Outside Thomas raised his flashlight, sending golden beams of light through the foggy glass. Abigail screamed his name again and pounded her flat hands against the window. Then she froze. Thomas was just standing there, his eyes fixed on hers. A hole had been punctured through his shoulder, drenching his body in blood from chest to hip. He smiled at his wife and waved at her, seemingly overjoyed to see her. But he did nothing. He simply stood there, smiling and waving.

Abigail knew she was hallucinating now, but he seemed so real…

A sudden barrage of static caused her to yelp and sink to her knees. With all her weight against the door, she felt a reassuring budge.

Something slithered between the hanging bodies, growing steadily closer to her. Mustering the small amount of strength she had left, she leapt up and kicked the door as hard as she could. Metal jangled and wood creaked, and the door began to give way.

Her attacker shrieked in annoyance and charged for her. She felt the sheer presence of death come rumbling towards her and with one last – desperate – kick, the door flew open and she dove into the woods.

Abigail ran for her husband, screaming at the top of her burning lungs.

"Thomas, run! Run! Get away!"

Thomas stood still until his wife was within a few feet of him, then he snapped out his arms and flung her to the ground. She landed with a hard crack and her husband neatly pinned her, kneeling over her and screaming in her face.

"You can't run!"

Blood splattered out of his mouth and Abigail wailed at the top of her lungs, tears stinging her tired eyes. Thomas grabbed her throat and shoved her head against the ground.

"Leave me alone!"

Abigail gagged and cried, squinting her eyes shut in agony as her head cracked against the dirt and grass beneath it.

"Thoma - !"

Abigail reached up and tried to push her husband off of her. Her fingers met some hard, smooth surface instead of a face. She forced one eye open. A black figure with no face knelt over her. Some empty void resembling a mouth ripped through the blank head, blood dribbling out the corners.

"There is nothing left for you."

The figure pulled back and tangled, messy, almost tentacle like appendages sprouted from its back. They wrapped around Abigail's arms and through her hair and yanked her up into the air. Abigail struggled but the limbs that bound her grew hard like aging wood. Blood splattered out of the monster's mouth and all over her face and shirt. Thomas' voice shrieked with annoyance through the throat of the monster.

"I hope you believe me now."

Abigail kicked her feet out and attempted to land some sort of blow on the monster, but her efforts achieved nothing.

"No! No! You're not Thomas! You're not! You're not – "

The monster slammed the woman back into the ground before she could finish her sentence. Abigail coughed and spat out blood and attempted to stand. Her leg snapped under her weight and gave way, the bone broken under the strain. She yelped and tumbled back to the ground. Cold metal pressed against her cheek and her eyes snapped open. _The rifle!_ She grabbed it and spun around. The monster was gone.

In the distance sirens wailed and her husband's voice echoed quietly, fearful and childlike.

_**Author's Note: Hur hur! Next chapter! Things are gonna start getting crazy here... so fasten your seatbelts ;) I would like to thank all of you for your wonderful and kind reviews! I am overjoyed that you all like the story so far!**_

_**Hope you all enjoyed! Please review if you would like to see it continued! Any support much appreciated! *hugs***_


	13. Chapter 13

"I don't care what it takes, get her out of here - now!"

The doctors fumbled over themselves and shrunk back from Thomas. His frustration and anxiety had nearly driven him over the edge. He decided enough was enough, and if he couldn't protect his family from the evil seeking to destroy them, he would simply remove them from harms way. He had called Abigail's sister and vaguely summarized the events that had transpired before begging her to allow Abigail and the twins to stay with her. Of course, she agreed and Thomas at once began to prepare his family for the three day drive. Abigail was bruised and battered and swollen, but she put on a brave face for her husband and son. Marissa was still in her death-like coma. The doctors were frantic trying to make arrangements with a hospital near Abigail's sister's house, but transportation would be the most problematic. The small town hospital had only one ambulance, and they simply could not be without it for six days. A lack of an ambulance could mean the difference between life and death for a person. The doctors all agreed they couldn't take that risk. Thomas was in a rage, but knew inside there was really nothing more they could do. So, the next morning the two better off of the family, Tristan and Abigail, said their painful goodbyes and began the three day drive out of town. They hadn't been gone ten minutes before Thomas received a call. Robbery in a downtown gift shop. He just couldn't get fifteen minutes to breathe, could he? He radioed in and got in his car, heading for the downtown plaza.

The robber had apparently fled into the woods, leaving the shop owner frantic and insisting the police leave the culprit be. The whole town was abuzz with rumors. many had claimed to see a man strolling through the forest at night, blending into the trees and melting between them like a shadow. Every citizen in the town was afraid of the woods now. Once, it had been a popular area for picnics and birthday parties. Now, fear had swept over the city, holding all who lived within it in its cruel clutches. And now, Thomas stood and the entrance, peering into the trees. A heavy layer of fog hung over the ground though the day was mild and the sun was shining. The woods were black and foreboding, and branches stretched out their thin, knotted arms as if they were just waiting for anyone to step close enough to grab. Then Thomas saw a boy. He was probably about twenty years old, clad in blue jeans and a black t-shirt. He clutched something tight under his arm, pointing and laughing at Thomas and the town behind him. Taunting, giggling, completely overwhelmed with joy. Thomas grunted and tightened his jaw, anger coursing hot through his veins. Not only was the kid a thief, he was a cocky son of a bitch! Before Thomas could think, he snapped out his pistol and shot it at the boy. The boy simply melted back into the trees instantaneously, a shrill cry of laughter echoing after him. Thomas ran head first into the trees after him, adrenaline moving him to inhuman speeds. About fifteen seconds later though, he seemed to realize how foolish he was being and stopped, turning back around to return to his car. He froze. There was a tall chain link fence in front of him now. Rusted, bloody barbed wire curled about the top of it, and papers had been stuck onto the barbs. Thomas opened his mouth and a sort of squeak escaped his throat when he realized what the papers were. In bold, black ink, gibberish threats were written in all caps.

There is nothing left for you.

You can't run.

Don't look or it takes you.

But it was the original printing on the pages that struck fear into his heart. They were Marissa's hospital records. Some of them from today. Silly, manic laughter echoed behind him, and Thomas spun around, gun ready. Before him stood a clearing that he had either simply not noticed or had freakishly appeared like the chain link fence. In the center of the clearing, kneeling with his legs crumpled abnormally under his body, was the boy. He held something in his hands, smiling as he ran his hands over it. He muttered and mumbled to himself, giggling every few moments.

Thomas inched closer, gun unwavering from the back of the boys head. The boy somehow seemed to know the gun was aimed for his temple and started laughing harder. The boy pulled something over his face and fastened the elastic strap over his short, bleach blonde hair. Then he spun his head around, smiling happily at Thomas. A bright white mask with red tears and black eye sockets covered the upper portion of the boy's face. His lips were caked with dried blood and his teeth rotten and chipped. He stood clumsily and turned about to face Thomas. The gun was still pointed at his head, Thomas' finger quaking on the trigger.  
Was this him? Was this the madman terrorizing his family? Was this sick minded bastard the one responsible for ruining their happiness?

The boy payed no attention to Thomas, he simply staggered about and mumbled to himself. Thomas ventured a noise.

"Hey, kid... What is -?"

"There is nothing left your you!"

The boy cut him off and exploded into laughter. The trees began to creak and moan. The boy continued to giggle. Thomas pulled his gun up again, worry crossing his face as the trees all seemed to lean over him. The boy suddenly stopped laughing and looked straight at Thomas.

"The page said, don't look or it takes you."

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"So why did you look?!"

As the boy screamed at him something cold and sharp pierced his body and blood went everywhere.

* * *

**_Author's Note: Oh Thomas, why do you get yourself into these situations...?_**

**_Is he dead?_**

**_Have to wait and see ;)_**

**_And I think this ones a bit shorter... Sorry...deal with it...meh XD_**


	14. Chapter 14

Abigail paced about nervously, her body covered in bandages and a headache pounding through her skull. She couldn't sleep since hearing the news. It had now been twelve hours since her husband had gone missing. Abigail's sister Jenna knocked gently on the door before cracking it open.

"Hey, you alright?"

Abigail just stood silent, her hands quaking against her lips.

"They can't find him…"

Jenna came in and shut the door behind her, taking her sister in her arms.

"Everything is going to be alright, I'm sure they'll find him."

Abigail wept bitterly, holding tight onto her sister as she inwardly fought for strength.

Out in the living area, Tristan sat still and silent, staring out the window into the dull night. Across the street the neighbor's house was dim, the streetlight above flickering lazily as if to shoo away the moths that surrounded it. Tristan was equally as worried about his father, but his thoughts kept running back to his sister. He had heard the doctor's talking. They had claimed not to know what caused the illness when Thomas had asked them, but they all knew what it was. The injuries Marissa had suffered as a child, the broken bones and infected skin, had taken their toll on her body. Her body was destroying itself. If she did live, she would be paralyzed at the very least. Tristan sat there in a silent pool of fear, his mind racing. If he lost his sister, he would lose a part of himself. He knew he shouldn't have left her, but he had no choice. Now, he sat alone on the couch, staring through the glass at the stars.

The phone rang. Jenna disentangled herself gently and went to go answer it.

"Abby!" Jenna called excitedly. "Abby! It's the hospital! Marissa woke up!"

Though he couldn't hear what his aunt said, Tristan sat up at the excitement, cocking his head curiously. Abigail came running out of her room, grabbing the phone and asking the doctors what was going on.

"Does she have a fever?"

"No ma'am, she –"

"Are her palms still sweaty?"

"No ma'am, uh –"

"Has she eaten anything? Has she been drinking enough water?"

"Yes, ma'am, the doctors are seeing to it. She is going well for her condition."

"Condition? What condition? Did the doctors find what caused it?"

There was a nervous pause before the voice continued.

"Yes… it's Hypophosphatasia, it's a rare bone disorder. Your daughter's leg, it was broken when she was young. Our investigation of the old fracture confirmed our diagnosis, it has not healed correctly."

"What, I… I don't understand. How did this just pop up suddenly? How did it go unnoticed?!"

"Hypophosphatasia is notorious for eluding the attention of even the most skilled doctors, it can be easily confused with simple, curable illnesses."

"Then… it isn't curable?"

"No, ma'am. The symptoms are controllable, but the disease itself, it cannot be cured."

Abigail swallowed and took a few deep breaths.

"Is it fatal?"

There was another pause on the other end of the line.

"It is such a rare disease that hardly any doctors ever come in contact with, so the care provided –"

"Is it fatal or not?! Answer me!"

"Most often, yes."

Abigail let the phone slip out of her hand, clasping her hands over her face and wailing.

The phone cracked hard on the ground, splitting apart sending the battery skidding across the hardwood floor. Static rang cold through the powerless phone, shrieking as if to laugh at the poor woman.

"I have to go see her." Abigail whispered between sobs. "I have to see her!"

Without waiting for a response from either Jenna or Tristan, Abigail ran to her room and grabbed her jacket, snatching it and her keys off her bed before heading for the front door. Jessica stood in silent shock, not sure how to cope with the news.

Tristan watched the chaos ensue. He had watched Abigail as she conversed on the phone, and he knew the news wasn't good. A part of him inside told him he needed to stop Abigail. He couldn't allow her to leave. Beyond the safe, warm walls of this house lurked the cold reality. The possibility that some evil being loomed over the threshold of the house, just waiting for the first fool to set a foot outside.

Tristan stood quiet in front of the door and waited. Abigail came barreling down the hall, stopping short not a foot away from him at the front door, staring at him. He quietly shook his head, his eyes pleading, and he signed.

_'Please, don't leave.'_

Abigail stared at his hands, tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn't learned nearly enough of the silent language to make out what he now said.

"I can't, I don't know what you're saying I'm sorry."

With that she pushed past him and opened the door, racing to the car and unlocking it.

"I'll be back, I promise. Marissa will be with me."

Tristan cocked his head in silent pain, neither knowing of her apology or her promise. He stood on the porch for some time after the glowing red taillights grew dim in the darkness. Completely unaware that the car was just out of sight, engine running, lights blazing, with Abigail dead inside.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry about my sudden silence. Real life, what can I say? And, yes. Just because this poor family's life wasn't horrible enough, Abigial is dead. X3


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